SotINF Short Stories Collection
by IOU1882
Summary: In a nutshell, it's basically exactly what the title says it is. I have problems with creating long and major stories, so I decided to write short stories instead. Hey, it was either that or stop writing fics altogether...and I know for sure that you don't want that, right? So this my gift to you guys! Oh, and there will obviously be more characters than named.
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings, my fabulous cohorts! Welcome to my brand new will-ever-be-increasing collection of short stories, featuring some of our favorite characters and duos. Now some of you might be familiar with my work..and will find this particular work of mine to be different from all the others, which is OK. **

**Just be warned that my rate of updating may vary significantly...it depends on whether my brain and heart will cooperate, because it's really hard for me to come up with original plots and I'm also kind of lazy. I have other ideas of fun, you know. So let us begin!**

**Paris**

Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans, wakes up to find that her husband have already had a head start. The vague impression of a body is still visible upon the surface of the mattress. Nothing unusual. Cautiously and reluctantly, she folds a heavy silken blanket off her body. Bringing up her fist towards her mouth, she stifles a light yawn.

The slender woman with dark auburn hair in a short boyish hairstyle, which had been that way ever since 1429, is wearing shiny and reflective purple silk pajamas. Pivoting her body off the side of the bed, she slips her tiny feet into fuzzy bunny slippers. On the wooden chair outside of the bathroom door, are a folded pair of fresh clothing. A tie-dye t-shirt and skinny blue jeans.

On the door is a sticky note. It said: _Beautiful morning, darling! But not as close to being beautiful as you. Love, S.G. your loving husband._

An affectionate smile curled on Joan's lips as she close the bathroom door behind her. After taking a quick shower, Joan changed into the tie-dyed shirt and skinny blue jeans. Flinging open her closet doors, she picks up a pair of black boots with a golden floral design etched on to them. "Ah, they still fits!" she said delightedly, rubbing the tip of the boot with her thumb.

Then quickly brushing her teeth and combing her hair, she grabbed the keys to her car from the drawer of her nightstand and exits the room.

* * *

Going down the stairs, she caught sight of her husband, the flamboyant Saint-Germain. He is standing in front of an elaborately tall mirror, an antique that he had bought somewhere in the late 1800s. He is busy trying on new outfits for his concert tonight. There are hats, pants, jackets, and shirts everywhere.

"The more I think about it", mused Joan silently to herself, "it's true that opposites really do attract." She coughs to get his attention.

The startled young man with piercing blue eyes spins around abruptly. An elegant smile revealing misshapen teeth, formed on his lips at the sight of his wife. "Ah! Joan, you're just in time to help me decide about my wardrobe." He then becomes more serious. "Which one? The black suit with white stripes? Or...the white suit with black stripes?"

"Oh, how I wish I can help you, but...", said Joan in a false tone of sadness. She consciously twist the doorknob and begins walking out the door. "I'm afraid I have some errands to do, sigh."

Francis rested his hands on his waist with an offended look on his round face. "Well you don't have to lie to me, you know." Another smile broke upon his face, for he never could stay mad at her for long. The record for that is only two hours. How impressive!

Joan paused in the doorway with her left foot still on its toes. She looks back over her shoulder and scan him critically with huge blue eyes. "Well...the black suit. Definitely the black suit! White makes you look fat", she added teasingly before closing the door behind her.

The Master of Fire sighs dreamily. Even when she teases him, it's so cute. "Boy, am I famished!"

Saint-Germain walks into the house's now newly rebuilt kitchen. The floor consists of smooth marble tiles and the plaster of the wall have been covered up with wallpaper. They also got a new sink and installed a refrigerator. Looking at now, you can hardly tell that a gigantic ancient prehistoric monster have completely demolished it.

"Oh, how it seems like only yesterday that Nidhogg was rampaging through all of Paris", said the immortal to himself, taking a sip of some rich French Roast coffee. Then his advanced hearing caused his ears to perk up, when there upon the stillness rose an abrupt thud.

Leaving the glass of coffee on the kitchen table, Saint-Germain rushed for the door. He paused suddenly right before opening it, his hand firmly holding on to the doorknob. Quickly snapping his fingers together to activate his aura, small orbs of multi-colored flames popped into existence on every finger. Taking a deep breath, he prepares to open the door...and to blast whatever is on the other side with fire.

"One...two...three!" He flings the door open. "AHA! Huh?"

What he sees is not at all what he's been expecting. It turns out that the intruder is a...dog. Standing in the middle of the living room is a dog, a kind of mix between terrier and greyhound. It eyed him with curiously, it's stout head tilted slightly to the side. Saint-Germain's aura cooled and he noticed that the front door is open.

Taking hold of a nearby broom, he approach the animal. Joan have always loved animals, but Francis has resolved to always distance himself from them. "Shoo! Shoo! Get out of here!", scolded the immortal. "Shoo!"

Knowing when he's not wanted, the strange hound bit on to a leather boot and hurriedly speeds away out of the house. Saint-Germain immediately dropped the broom and runs out after it. "Hey! Come back here with my shoe!" He angrily shouted while chasing the mutt down the street.

The bubbly hound seems to ignore the immortal's cries to stop, and accelerates its pace. "Oh, no you didn't! Give me back my shoe now!"

The dog turns a corner, with Saint-Germain close on its heels. He would have caught it too, if it wasn't for a crowd of fans.

"Hey, Germain! Looking good! Can I get a autograph?"

"Germain I love you!"

"Do you have any of your albums on you right now?"

"Hey, can't wait for the concert tonight! Bet it's going to be awesome!"

Saint-Germain watched helplessly as the dog disappears farther down the street with his boot. Apologizing, he pushes his way through the eager fans. "Sorry! Can't talk right now! A dog just stole my shoe!"

Finally breaking free, he sprints frantically down the street, hoping that the dog haven't went too far. Somewhere along the way, he spots the mutt out of the corner of his eye. It's heading for a butcher shop! "Not so fast!" He yelled after it.

He follows it into the shop, and then out again. He follows it into the bakery, just to emerge from it covered in baking flour and frosting. He follows it into the perfume shop, and comes out of it heaving and panting, his eyes red lined and teary with the absolutely overwhelming odors spayed on him. He pursued that dog all over Paris in a mad hunt. Tourists with flashing cameras would all simultaneously turn to take pictures of the sweaty man chasing a dog with a shoe in its slobbering jaws. What a way to make a first impression of Paris!

They went up and down the Eiffel Tower, and all over the place before Saint-Germain finally managed to corner it in a side alley. The dog have unwittingly ran into it and abruptly stopped just a mere inches from the stone wall barring its way. Saint-Germain, upon catching up with it, stopped and placed his hands on his knees. He desperately needs to catch his breath.

"Give...me...back...my shoe!", he heaved out in between rigid breathing. The expression on his once cheerful face have become dark and menacing with the crazy almost visible in his eyes. He slowly and cautiously took steps to approach the clearly frightened dog.

"Nice, good doggy. Give me back my shoe so that I can perform at my concert tonight. I don't want to to hurt you."

Just as he came close enough and is about to pounce, the dog cleverly darted through under his legs towards freedom! The dog knocked the immortal off balance and he fell flat on his back. "Ugh! Why that little scoundrel! Me, the Comte de Saint-Germain, outsmarted by a dog!"

Raising up his upper body using his arms, he slowly worked his way up the ground. "Can this day possibly get any worse?" He fastidiously dusts the dirt off his designer jeans.

Saint-Germain ran out of the alley, just in time to see the dog standing over the waters of the Seine River. "You...wouldn't...dare!", he gasped.

The dog made a little bark, seemingly telling the count to try him. Then he just dropped it in there anyways and skedaddled yipping all the way.

"NOOOOOO!" Saint-Germain, in one final desperate attempt, dives head first into the waters of the Seine. Time stand still, before minutes later...

"Pfft thhaggg pf-ff!" He reemerges! Raising his recovered shoe high in the air, he exclaimed triumphantly, "Yes! Yes! Take that you mangy mutt!"

With a proud shake of his thick mane, the flips the hair off his face and eyes. Right in front of him, stands Joan with her arms crossed.

"Um...honey...why are you in the river? Perhaps I don't want to know anyways?"

Saint-Germain laughs nervously and replies, "Believe it or not, I was chasing a dog that had stolen my shoe." Joan's eyes widen in awe. "And it kind of dropped my shoe in here, and I kind of jumped in."

Joan only stared at him with a stricken expression on her petite face. "Now can you help me out of here now? The current is extremely strong today..."

Joan grinned sympathetically as she held out her hand to him. He gladly takes it and...SPLASH!

"Francis! Why in the world did you do that for!"screamed Joan, who is now soaking wet with her short dark hair hanging in thick clumps. She is so angry at Saint-Germain for unceremoniously pulling her into the water with him. She smacks him on the chest, causing him to grunt

The immortal count just laughs heartily as he gently wraps his arms around his wet and shivering wife. "Oh, just for fun. Even being wet in the Seine with you is more magical than without.

"Well I'm not feeling very magical", she murmured ruefully

**The End**

**So how was it? Not so bad right? Right? Eh, I'll work on it. So please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey it's me again! So the last story was fun. This one is slightly better I think. Enjoy! You guys are beautiful! I love it!**

**California**

"No no no no no!", cried Machiavelli the immortal Italian. "Let me go! I don't want to go shooting!"

"Oh, stop struggling will you? Come on!", urged Billy the Kid, "It's gonna be fun!"

The tall Italian struggles to break free of the American immortal's vise-like grip, but it seems that the scrawny cowboy has more strength in him than anybody thought. Even so, he sill resists even as Billy drags him into the shooting range, the noise of bullets against metal ringing out from inside.

Once inside, they took positions in front of the targets resembling human torsos. "Here, put these on." Billy hands Mac some professional grade headphones and goggles.

"Now just hold up your gun. Come on, now."

Mac glanced briefly at Billy before reluctantly raising up his gun in a shaky two-handed grip. "Is this good enough?"

Billy shakes his head in dismay. The western American cowboy is dressed in a iconic t-shirt with the words "Killing it!", wide brimmed coyboy hat and beaten leather boots. The more sophisticated Italian, according to himself at least, is dressed in an expesive gray cashmire suite with cotton shirt and narrow black tie. Billy is younger with a slight build, while Mac is taller with an average build, and looks visibly older with close cut snowy white hair.

"Nah, you're doing it wrong, Mac. Here." Billy slips his arms from behind Machiavelli and holds his hands in both of his, helping him to ease the gun in place.

"This feels disturbingly akward", remarked the Italian, finding himself in the usually feminine passive position. "When can I shoot then?"

"Just relax, Mac, take it easy!"said Billy firmly. "Damn it, I can feel you sweating through your shirt!"

"Well I'm sorry, but I've never used a gun before, Mr. I'm-a-wanted-outlaw!"

Billy grinned slightly at his friend's ignorance. Keeping a serious tone, he said, "Don't worry, it's just like shooting blasts of energy balls or whatever. Ok so aim carefully."

With Billy's help, Machiavelli adjusts the gun and points towards the target. Cautiously pressing the trigger, Mac fires a bullet...and then another...and then another...and another...and another...take cover! Metal and shells pinged off walls, bounced against the ground and richocheied off the ceiling as Machiavelli let loose a deadly storm of bullets.

Billy immediately took hold of the gun to cease its fire. "Woah! Woah! Woah! Stop shooting Mac, that's enough! Damn!"

"Did I hit the target?", asked Mac hoarsely, opening one eye.

Billy laugh, but there is no humor in it. He points to all the damage done around the target and replied, "Target? You've hit everything else BUT the target! Oh, that was the worst shooting I've ever seen in my life." He added softly to himself.

"What did you say?!", demanded the Italian.

"Nah, it was nothing", reassured Billy, "Now watch how I do it." The cowboy firmly takes his stance, and focuses on the target, his eyes becoming somewhat mistly with concentration. His fingers slowly worked their way down to his waist, gently brushing against his pistols.

"Any day now, thank you very much", said an annoyed Machiavelli while impatiently tapping his foot.

"Shhh! You're killing my vibe!" snapped back Billy without turning to look at him. Then as swift as lightening, Billy flipped out his pistols and fired to shots in quick succession, before ultimately tucking them back in their holsters again. The two bullets hit the target squarely in the middle, their holes so close together, that you might think it was only one shot taken.

Billy brought the barrel of his pistol to his mouth and blew on it triumphantly. He then casually turn to look at the Italian, whose mouth is gaping in awe with a frozen expression of shock on his face.

Billy bit his bottm lip to keep himself from laughing out loud. "OK, Mac, it's your turn now. Take it easy this time, chill out."

Machiavelli shook his head slowly and gazed at the cowboy. "You gun-slinging devil! How the hell did you do that?"

Billy just shrug modestly and said, "I don't know...practice I guess."

Machiavelly sighs heavily and crossed his arms in defiance. "I don't know why anybody need to use a gun! Back in my day, when someone wants to kill you, they would do it up close and personal with swords."

"That was different", pointed out Billy. "Fighting with guns was "up close and personal" for us in the west. There were hardly any laws. If you didn't have a gun, you were basically a dead man." That last sentence made a chill run down Mac's spine.

Then Billy smiled and said, "Give it another try, Mac. You can do it."

"If you say so", muttered Machiavelli as he hold up the gun once more. Briefly closing his eyes, he exhaled and relaxed. Carefully taking aim, he press the trigger and fired. Bullseye! "I...I did it! I did it! I learned how to shoot!" The Italian became speechless as stood their smiling like an idiot.

"Yeeehaw!" cried Billy. "Good work, partner'!" He pats Machiavelli on the back, causing his to release his grip on the gun.

The gun dropped on to the floor, and accidentally released a shot upon impact. The bullet struck Billy in the lef just below the knee. Almost immediately, the American immortal collapsed to the ground. He held on to his injured leg as he rolled painfully on the ground, tears rolling down his pale cheeks.

"Billy!" Machiavelli drops on his knees beside the wounded cowboy. "Are you alright?!"

"Damn it, you Italian! I never want to go shooting with you ever again!", yelled Billy, the pain of his le making him wince.

The Italian immortal's face lit up with a consious grin, "Ah, that's just what I wanted to hear." He then fished his phone out of his pocket and began calling emergency 911. "In case you've forgotten, you're immortal for Christ's sake, Billy!"

**The End**

**That's the end of that story! Yeah I know, it's a little choppy. You get what you get. Please review, all you awesome people out there! BRB :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**What's up guys! So this is going to be a Will and Palamedes story...dedicated to my friend, who is a big fan of theirs. I on the other hand, personally think that they're pretty cool too. I have no choice! They did help to stop the Apocalypse and save the world didn't they? Who knew that the most iconic figures of history would be the ones to fight for humanity in the future? Anything could happen in this strange and wonderful world...**

**London**

English immortal, William Shakespeare comes out of an ice cream shop. "Oh ice cream, oh ice cream, how I love you so! To eat or not to eat, is in in fact to eat!" He sings that as he merrily skips along like a little school girl, with double scoop of pecan butter crunch in a waffle cone. His best friend, the muscular Knight Palamedes fell into step beside him.

His waffle cone only contains a single scoop of rich chocolate. "Will, how long has been since you've last eaten ice cream?", asked Palamedes, genuinely curious.

The English immortal ceased to skip and began to walk at a normal pace. There was the biggest smile on his face as he answered, "About one-two hundred years ago, I think."

The Knight grins, savoring his ice cream slightly. "I guess you fell in love with the stuff, didn't you?"

Will took a huge bite out of his and replied while chewing, "Are you kidding me? I could write a whole sonnet about ice cream!" He swallowed. "And I did, too."

"You did? When?", asked Palamedes as they stroll down a really, really, really long street.

"Oh, I don't know, it was a long time ago", answered Will while vaguely waving his hand. "Maybe if I find it, I'll show it to you."

"That would be nice", muttered Palamedes, sucking on the melting form of his ice cream. There was silence between them for a while, before he asked, "So what's your favorite ice cream flavor? Only ONE", he added slowly.

Will briefly closed his eyes as he rubbed his temples, trying to think. "Oh, God, that's a really hard one! Uh...vanilla, no chocolate! Uh, snow cones? Agghh! All of them!"

The Saracen knight blinked twice and said, "OK...mine would be chocolate."

"Do you like ice cream?"

The question came out of nowhere and caught Palamedes off guard. He stopped walking, and Will turned around to face him. "Well? What is it?"

A tight grin curled on the immortal knight's dark lips as he said, "Why, sir, I am most highly offended! How dare you question my fondness of the delicious soft frozen cream, that is ice cream?"

William smiled cheekily. "Oh, just to make sure that's all!"

They them resumed their stroll down the street. They walked past many different shops and restaurants. They passed a cafe, where free samples of donuts and cinnamon buns were displayed.

"Care to try some?", nudged Palamedes.

William shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. "No, not for me. I prefer to stick to my ice cream."

"You know, I like donuts, almost as much as I like ice cream", remarked Palamedes casually. "Especially the jelly-filled ones", he grimaced with a delighted smile.

Will reconsidered, "Donuts are fine, compared to ice cream. I once met Ben and Jerry, the famous ice cream entrepreneurs. Ah, they were very good chaps."

Palamedes was impressed. "Really? I think there ice cream are truly superb! They make ice cream look like an art!"

Just as he was saying those words, a green bus pulled up, unloading a mass of American and Hispanic tourists. All had their various sizes and brands of cameras and phones ready to take pictures, as the excited crowd chatted among themselves.

Palamedes glared at them for a second and then turned back to William. "Well, since we're talking about food, let us review the favorite snacks of our friends!"

"Interesting idea", exclaimed Will. "How should we do this?"

"I say the name of a friend and you tell me their favorite snacks." He coughs to clear his throat. "First one, Gilgamesh. We've known that old man for years..."

"Blackberry pie!"

"Saint-Germain?"

"Oh that's easy, mini bread topped with pig liver pate!"

"Nicholas Flamel?"

"Bread and cheese. He's a simple man", added Will with a flicker of sadness in his eyes.

Palamedes nodded slowly. "Yes, he is...he's always been like that. It's one of the traits I liked about him. Perenelle?

"Sweet honey cake, the way her mother used to make."

"The twins?"

"What twins?"

"The Twins of Legend! Sophie and...Mareythu." The ancient language sounded foreign on Palamede's lips, but he knows that the boy he is speaking of does not go by "Josh" anymore.

"Chocolate chip cookies!" sang Will.

Palamedes tapped his index finger against his lip as he thought of a hard one. "Umm, Joan. Jeanne d' Arc?"

William sighed dreamily. "That's a trick question! Joan likes practically anything...except British cuisine, which I guess is highly understandable." He shrugged, an elegant roll of his hunched shoulders.

"That's true, and she's one hell of a great cook, too", added the Knight with a wry smile, his mouth practically drooling. "Palamedes?"

"Ice cream!"

"William Shakespeare?"

"Ice crea-"

Both of them halted in their tracks, and grinned at each other. Will ceremoniously linked his arm with his friend and announced, "Well then, shall we skip and sing about our beloved ice cream the rest of the way?"

"Let us commence swiftly!"

So the strange pair consisting of a tall, dark Moor and the slightly built bearded man with glasses proceeded down the remainder of the street. They skipped happily arm in arm, their cones of ice cream in hand. While they did so, they sang, "Oh ice cream, oh ice cream! How we love you so! To eat or not eat, is in fact to eat! You're so delicious and chilly, it makes us want to jump for joy! We would eat you everyday, morning and night, for the rest of our infinite lives! For there's nothing else in the world that would rather delightly gorge on!"

Their immense joy was short lived, for as they rounded a corner, tragedy struck. Will accidentally almost tripped on an uneven piece of pavement, causing him to let go of his ice cream. It fell on the ground of the sidewalk with an audible and terrifying _SPLAT!_

William is traumatized. absolutely paralyzed. Dramatically, he fell down to his knees and buried his face in his trembling hands. "No, no, no , no! Oh, the tragic woe that have befallen me!" he cried in anguish. He scooped up the remains of his melting ice cream, and stared at it as the semi-solid liquid dripped through his fingers.

Eventually, Palamedes helped him up to his feet. The immortal Knight hugged the immortal playwright and whispered. "There, there Will. Don't cry. You know what?"

"What?", asked William in a cracking voice as he choked on his tears.

Palamedes held Will out and arm's length and smiled sympathetically and said gently, "Let us go and I'll buy you another one, my treat."

Will stiffened up and began to wipe away the tears. "Rea-really? You would do that for me?"he sniffled.

"Sure, pal, anything for you, old chum."

**The End**

**Uh, yeah, that's the best I could come up with. Poor Will! Oh well, he'll get over it. I am sorry for him, really. Please review! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Don't yell at me, but just read it. It came out of nowhere. First, the ending came to me, then the beginning, and then the middle I had to fill in myself. **

Vegetarian vampire Scathach and non-vampire but still a vegetarian Joan of Arc walks into the Lucky Clover Pub. A full house was present that night. Ancient wooden beams criss-cross along the ceiling, providing support for the roof. The walls were adorned all over with the severed heads of various different game beasts, ranging from the peaceful elk to the menacing wild boar; relics of the adventurous medieval past. Those animal heads obviously had seen better days. The crisp aroma of aged wine and sharp liquor mingled compatibly.

Rustic picturesque wooden tables and chairs were scattered throughout the place, and they were already taken. The fiddler and his merry band provided great entertainment, playng their lively and upbeat tunes. The whole place went wild! No true Scot ever wants to be put down by cheap and sappy hippy songs. No, they want to feel exhilerated and alive tonight! Excited, all the young patrons cheered and rooted their aprroval for the music, toasting their flagons with a resounding clink-clang. So with their spirits raised and their hearts enlightened, all the men happily began to sing along to an old, glorious hunting song, from way back in the olden days. Bursting genuine Scottish pride rang out in every pitch and melody!

Scatty placed her hands on her hips and took in a big whiff of the warm and fresh yeasty air. "Welcome to the Luck Clover Pub! So what you think Joan?"

Joan critically scanned around their surroundings, from their fellow singing half-drunk patrons, and then stopping at the dispalyed animal trophies.

"Well...it seems very festive around here", Joan said finally. "No wonder you love this place so much. Do you come here often?"

"Ah, yeah, ever since it was first established and opened in 1831." Her expression grimaced and she said, "Well, it was actually built in the 1400s as the personal hunting lodge of Lord Roger O'Leery. Then in 1831, his descendant, Mike O'Leery transformed it into a smashing pub." A huge smile came on to her face and her glassy green eyes gleamed with joy.

"And I guess that the decorative animal heads are here as a reminder of this place's history, as a place where animals were slaughtered?"asked Joan without ecxpecting an answer.

Scatty just laughed as she leisurely rested her arm on Joan's shoulders. "Now, come, I invited Palamedes and Will to meet us here. Where are those goofballs?"

"You mean I won't be alone? Thank you!" rejoiced Joan softly.

Slowly and with much "sorry" and "excuse me", and the ocassional "hey move over you bum!", they finally managed to get past the masses. The found Palamedes and Will at the bar, who greeted them with much fluff.

"Ah, Joan and Scathach! Guess you two made it after all", exclaimed Palamedes with a grin. "Give me the pleasure of buying you a drink?"

"I can pay for my own drink, thank you very much", chirped Scatty playfully as she slid on to a chair between them. Joan took the seat beside Will.

"Geez, just being polite, that's all", said Palamdes softly and cheekily. He waved for the barkeeper to come over, who did so immediately.

"Hello, folks, what can I get you tonight?" His accent was thick and naturally charming.

"Black liquor", replied Palamedes automatically. "The mild kind."

The barkeeper nodded and turned to acknowledge Scatty.

"Get me the finest and most bold Scotch you have, please!"

He gave her a quick wink before laying his glare on Joan and Will. "Well me, oh my, you two look like you don't drink much. What would you like?"

Will's blue eyes were huge and bulbous behind his glasses. "Do you have any rootbeer? I especially like the creamy ones", he said in a childish tone.

"Why, sure we do! How about you, lassie?"

Joan thought about it for a good while then decided, "Water. I would like water, please."

The barkeeper chuckled and asked, "Are you sure you want just water, sweety?"

"Um...mixed some red wine into it."

"...Alright..." he then got to work. He gave Palamedes a glass of liquor, a mug of golden Scotch to Scatty, an overflowing creamy rootbear to Will, and Joan her water. "Ya'll enjoy now!"

Scatty swiftly gulped down half her fill and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Ahhh, that's some very good Scotch as always! So how are you guys? You like it here?"

Palamedes sat his glass of liquor back down. "We're just swell. About this place? It's pretty neat and the liquor's pretty okay. The animal heads creep me out, though."

"I know, right?" said Joan in agreement.

"Everything is great!" replied Will bashfully. "The music, the folks, the root-beer...splendid! Marvelous! Magical!"

"Say, Will, when was the last time you drank alcohol?" asked Scatty, genuinely curious.

That question stopped him cold and the warm blood turned his skin red even to his ears. He nervously sipped his root-beer, stuttering, "Oh...um...it was...at that party...a while back. I can't remember when." Scatty was not easily fooled

"Joan?"

Joan tried to change the subject. "So, Will have you been using a new brand of cleaner for your glasses? They look...shinier."

Will gladly played along, saying, "Oh yes! Thank you for noticing, Joan. This one is alcohol-free."

"Hey, you know what would be so fun, Scatty?"blurted Palamedes out of nowhere.

"What Pally?"

"First of all...for the million time, don't call me that!" he grumbled with great annoyance. His tone became happier as he said, "I think that Will and Joan should have a drinking competition! I've always been curious about how that would turn out."

As soon as those words came out of his mouth, the protests began to rise. Scatty was in favor of it.

"Come on, Joan! It will be fun! Just a little harmless competition", she pleaded.

"Scatty, you know that I don't drink alcohol", Joan replied bluntly.

Will crossed his arms and shook his head back and forth. "No! No! No! No! I refuse to take part in it!"

"That makes two of us", said Joan, smiling briefly at Will who returned it.

"Please Will! I will give you ice cream if you do it!" begged Palamedes in earnest.

"Did you say ice cream?" Will reconsidered. "Well...alright, but you better buy me a Mega-Triple-Frosty-Sundae when we get home!"

Scatty high-fived Palamdes before giving Joan the puppy eyes. "Pwetty please?"

Joan rolled her eyes and laughed softly. "Oh, fine, but only because Will agreed to it. You owe me a favor, Scatty."

"Hooray! Peer pressure prevails!"

Palamedes ordered the vodka, not the best choice to give to two such lightweights. The barkeeper poured some into two small cups and presented them to Joan and Will. The two immortals stared unflinchingly at the clear and taunting liquid. They looked at each other, then at Scathach and Palamedes, who smiled and gave them four thumbs-up

The barkeeper smiled kindly and nudged the cups closer. Halfheartedly, Joan and Will lifted their glasses. "Past the lips, over the gums, look out stomach here it comes!"

"See you on the other side!" prayed Will and then he and Joan shot it all down. Their reactions were absolutely priceless. Then the barkeeper provided them with two more, which they also drank. Then another set...and another...and another...and another...

* * *

**************TIME SKIP BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE FUNDING OF IOU AND VODKA INC. THANK YOU! ^^ :} ***********************************

"Come on, Joan! Only one more! You need one more! Don't give up now!"urged Scatty frantically.

The clock struck two minutes past midnight. By that time, the only living souls left in the bar were the four immortals and the barkeeper, who had been watching them all that time with weary anticipation. Everyone else had gone home already.

Palamedes stifled a loud yawn. "You know, Scathach, I think I'm starting to regret all of this." He took a brief glace at William Shakespeare was resting his pounding head on his folded arms, holding an empty cup in his right hand. He would moan and complain about the alcohol once every while.

Joan of Arc, wanting above all else to just get this ridiculous charade over with, shakily lifted lifted the last full cup of the evil devil juice vodka and drank it down fastidiously. Scatty couldn't help but beam radiantly with joy, but was still aware of the consequences of their actions though. Joan instantly became lightheaded, a common side affect, and slumped off her chair right into the vampire's arms.

"Oh my, is she okay?!" asked Palamedes, straining his eyeballs to see.

Scatty began to check her her status and search her face. Joan's eye were open just barely and the bright blue color became faded with shock. A wry smile came to her lips and she mumbles something incomprehensible, then laughed giddily out of all rational senses.

"Well, they're officially drunk!" announced Scatty. "I guess there is always a first for everything. Count to see who won."

Palamedes assumed a dramatically false demeanor of surprise. "Oh, they're drunk, William and Joan? Dear me, I never noticed!"

Scathach groaned and rolled her eyes before giving him an un-amused look. "Oh, hardy har har!That was SO funny that I forgot to laugh!"

The Saracen knight replied proudly, "Why, thank you very much!"

"God, for someone who is over 600 years old, I thought you could understand the concept of sarcasm by now", she grumbled lowly to herself. She then lashed out at him, barking, "Just count the blasted cups , will ya! I need to take Joan home and now I'm late!"

A startled Palamedes complied and did as he was told. He began counting the little empty glass cups. "One..two...three..cuadro...cinco..."

Suddenly, Scathach's phone rang out, the techno warbling sound making them both jump. Even Will raised his head upon hearing it, only to drop it back down again.

"So much alcohol! My poor weak stomach can't take it anymore!" wailed the immortal bard drowsily. "Palamedes you bloody turd! Why in the world would you do that to me? I thought we were friends...!" The barkeeper gave him a bucket, just in case his upset stomach would want to empty out its contents. Better safe than sorry!

Scatty waved her hand towards the Moor to keep counting and eased Joan down into a char. She took a deep breathe before answering the call. "Hey, Francis!" she winced and refrained herself from sounding to suspicious and perky." Yeah, we're just having fun here with Palamedes and Will. I know right? Joan? Oh. she's fine yeah." Scatty paused momentarily to adjust her ear and brush the stray strands of hair away. "What...so you're at the airport right now waiting for us? Don't worry, we'll be there soon I promise. You want to talk to Joan now? Uh...sure! Here, talk with her." Scatty hung up abruptly.

"One hundred and fifty!" cried Palamedes triumphantly. "Both of them drank exactly 150 cups...each!"

"So it's a tie?"

"Indeed, Scathach, indeed", he answered with a slow nod.

"Hmm, interesting. So can you please give me and Joan a ride to the airport in your taxi?"

Palamedes shot out his hand, palms facing upward. "That will be fifty dollars asap, no exceptions! That Mega-Triple-Frosty-Sundae is not cheap, you know."

**The End**

**So that's what brain manufactured this week. Pretty great, huh? Sorry again that it took so long.**

**I really would like to thank EscaoingPanda, who's been here with me since the very beginning and when I published my first story. Also, the ever incredible and awesome Scathachrox. Thank you both so much! Keep on truckin'!**

**So now a few words of advice: Try not to become an alcoholic and stay away from negative peer pressure. This is fanfiction, so it's okay.**

**You know the drill! Remember RFF**

**Review**

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**I don't care if you forgot the last two, but always remember to leave a review..sooner or later. Merry Christmas and HO HO HO!**

**Holiday cookies! (*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*) Help yourselves! :}**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello my lovelies! I'm only writing this because I just read something extremely gross and traumatizing. So anyways...I need to readjust and process myself by writing something humorous and happy, for my health and sanity's sake. Enjoy!'**

**Prometheus's Shadowrealm **

"WELCOME TO THE SPEC-FAB-ULISTIC IMMORTALS PROM" read Josh Newman out loud, as he and his sister Sophie gaze up at the huge banner hung above the grand doorway.

There was a slight ruffling of fabric as Josh readjusted his green tie. "How I wish we could' have gone to our prom. But I guess this should be interesting, right sis?" He flashed Sophie a quick grin.

Sophie smiled tightly and replied, "Of course, what do you expect? Anything is interesting when you have immortals around." At that, they both laughed.

Josh is neatly dressed in a fancy black tux, and forest green silken tie. Meanwhile, his twin sister Sophie has on a beautiful light purple dress with sparkles and a red sash. On her feet, she is wearing some adorable flats. They're the most stylish twins around!

Both of them were standing outside of Prometheus's new mansion, where an immortal prom is being held, the Witch of Endor's idea. Idle chatter and muffled laughter could be heard from behind the huge hardwood door, along with the sound of music from inside. Both of them had received a grand invitation last week, delivered by giant gargoyles. Unfortunately, Sophie was in math class during that time...long story short, the teacher fainted and the school closed down until further notice.

"Shall we go in then?" Josh offered Sophie his arm.

Sophie gladly took it. "Let's do this."

* * *

Once inside the mansion, they were immediately bombarded by Scathach who absorbed both of them into a bear-like hug.

"Scatty...*cough cough*...you are uh...wrinkling my tie!" gasped Josh trying desperately to get some air into his empty lungs.

"Great to see..you Scatty...but can you let us go now?" asked Sophie through gritted teeth. Scatty released them and stepped back a bit, blushing lightly.

"Welcome, golden boy and silver girl, to the first ever immortals prom!" she announced cheerfully. Scatty is dressed casually in a vintage t-shirt, blue jeans with a spunky rip above the right knee, and beaten up cowboy boots.

It took quite a while for the oxygen starved twins to regain their composure. Josh bowed slightly and said with a grin, "Hmm...everything is simply splendid! Give my compliments to the Witch of Endor."

Scatty nodded. "I'll be sure to do that later. My grandmother have always had a flare for the dramatic and exotic." She then took a sip of punch from the cup in her hand.

"Cool hat, Scatty!" noticed Sophie, acknowledging her over-the-top Las Vegas party hat, that seems to glow brighter than a thousand stars. "Where did you get it?"

Scatty's eyes flicked upwards. "Oh, this thing? Yeah...I got it a few years ago when I last visited Las Vegas. Pretty sweet, huh?"

"Very."

Scatty grinned widely, showing off her deadly vampire canines. "Thanks! So um, you guys should try the punch. It's right over there-" and she pointed the way with her arm.

"Very well", said Josh. "Come on, sis, I'm quite parched."

Sophie rolled her eyes slight annoyance. "Oh, Josh, you and your crazy dry throat."

* * *

William Shakespeare was dancing himself over to the refreshments table and singing softly along to the song being played, when Josh and Sophie came over. His shirt was hanging out loosely, while his jacket and matching slacks appeared to have been patched up many times.

"Ah, if it isn't my two most favorite twins in the world!" he cried jubilantly as he handed them both some punch.

Josh graciously thanked him before asking, "So Will, where's Palamedes? It's odd for me to see one of you without the other."

"Yo! Josh and Sophie! You guys are looking fine!"

Josh and Sophie looked over Will's shoulder to see Palamedes rocking the party over at the DJ table. He waved and they waved happily back.

"Palamedes, dude, looking good up there! Whoo!" yelled Josh.

Sophie's mouth was gaping in awe. "Wow! So Palamedes is the DJ? That's so awesome."

The Bard nodded in agreement. "You should have seen him back in the 80's. He had an Afro that was the size of-" he spread his arms as wide as he could. "-Kaboom!"

Josh and Sophie couldn't suppress their laughter for long, but soon burst out in excessive giggles. Will laughed along with them before excusing himself to head back on to the dance floor. There was a HUGE crystal disco ball on the ceiling, animating multiple light beams off it's reflective surface.

* * *

After loading their plates up with mini cocktail weenies, crab cake, and jumbo shrimps, Josh and Sophie found a table to sit down at. As they were just about to settle down, there burst in Billy the Kid and Virginia Dare.

"YEEEEEHAW!"trilled Billy at the top of his lungs. "Where's the dance floor? I wanna get my groove on!"

Billy took Virginia's hand and pulled her through the room and rushed on to the dance floor. That scrawny cowboy busted out moves like a real party animal, much to Virginia's delight.

"Check out Billy's moonwalk", said Sophie.

Josh turned in his seat to look. "Oh, Michael Jackson must be very proud indeed", he replied with a whimsical humor. He took a bite of his crab cake, while his sister glanced around the scene, admiring everything.

That is..until Saint Germain walked in through door...wearing a dress. Sophie's mouth instantly dropped.

"Sophie? What's wrong?" asked Josh with mild concern ringing in his voice. Sophie utterly speechless, grabbed hold of his head, and turned it towards the door so he could see, too.

Josh's was strained so hard, that he though they would pop right out of his blonde little head. "Oh God, I think I might become blind!"

"Same here", reassured Sophie.

Joan and Francis caught sight of them and began to make their way over. They were a mind-boggling pair, indeed. Joan, with her natural boyish demeanor, is sharply clad in a pristine white tux, polished leather dress shoes, and a narrow satin tie adorn with the bright colors of the French flag in blue, white and red. The spotless whiteness of her clothes gave her small figure a kind of angelic glow. Perhaps some things just won't fade away.

Francis, however, was dressed in an elegant, flowing white evening dress and wore high heels on his unusually dainty feet. Aren't you just so curious to know why?

"Why Francis, man, I knew you were eccentric and all...but why are you wearing a dress?" exclaimed Josh.

Francis's usually cheery face was now pale in great embarrassment, prompting Joan to answer for him. "He lost a bet."

"Ohhhhhh", chorused Josh and Sophie as matching grins broke upon their faces. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"My instincts told me that Lyon would win, but I just haaad to pick Bordeaux", complained Francis with a scowl. Eventually though, the corner of his mouth twitched to form a grin. "My advice to you two...is to never bet against Joan. She has the angels and Saints to guide her, you know." Joan laughed and swatted his arm jokingly. (Lyon and Bordeaux are French soccer teams)

"Oh, Francis, I haven't heard my voices in centuries, not since Scatty rescued me from being burned." For a moment, an expression of far-seeing flashed in her eyes, but it quickly passed. "After living on the Earth for so long...I began to question my voices sometimes. I still have no idea of what they really were."

"So Joan, why the tux?" asked Sophie.

Joan casually slid her hands into the front pockets of her pants, and shrugged. "From old habits I guess...for old time's sake."

"Ah, I see."

She then turns to Francis. "Shall we dance, darling? Remember the bet", Joan chirped.

Francis sighed. "Fine if I have to...and also because I need to you for support." He shook his head and quiet dismay. "I have not a clue on how you women could wear these shoes on your feet! It's highly dysfunctional."

"Have fun you two!" yelled Josh after them.

"Oh, we'll try our best!" was the reply.

* * *

"This event is a smashing hit! Well done, Dora, once again", said Prometheus as he and the Witch of Endor dance slowly together.

"Thank you Prometheus", replied the goddess graciously."All of our immortal guests look like they're having a good time", she noticed glancing around the dance floor.

"It certainly seems so", notes Prometheus. They both noticed Joan and Saint Germain waltzing a few feet away from them.

"Oww! Francis, that's like the tenth time that you stepped on my toes!" cried Joan.

"Oops! Sorry! It was the heels."

Billy and Virginia were still dancing their little hearts out. Will and Palamedes were rapping like they're hot. They spotted Scathach and Machiavelli, who were arm wrestling over the last piece of cocktail weenie. Also, they saw Niten, Aoife, Josh and Sophie, all four of them toasting with their punch.

"Well, you can't win them all", shrugged Prometheus smiling smugly. The Witch smiled in return.

"You can't win them all."

**THE END**

**Annnnnnnnnnnd that's all! Until next time, please review! Happy New Year cookies!**

**(2014) (2014) (2014) (2014) (2014) (2014) (2014) (2014) (2014)**


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